Nothing Can Save Me Now
by xoLOVExo
Summary: Nia, a citizen of District 12, is chosen as a tribute in the 100th Quarter Quell.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or any of the characters besides my own characters.**

**Back story: The story takes place in the next Quarter Quell (25 years later). Haymitch is dead, Peeta never recovered but doesn't want to kill Katniss anymore. Katniss is a drunk because she is depressed because of Peeta. The Games are still going on and the rebellion never happened. Coin's younger sister is the new president. (they share the same last name)**

"Come on kids, time for the card selection." My dad says. The Capitol insists on reminding us of the Games year round. It seems like the Victory Tour just ended, but no matter what, today is the day that President Coin will draw the Quarter Quell card. "Nia! Get in here!" I drag myself out of my bed and run to the kitchen to see the card selection. My mom is always upset whenever we have to watch anything related to the Games, so she grabs some tissues for when she cries. My two brothers, Gage and Caiden, sit on the couch with me. My mom and dad just stand to watch the card selection since we don't have enough room on the couch.

The black screen comes to life and I see Silas Flickerman speaking about the upcoming Games. Everyone in the Capital is excited, so we hear the crowd cheering and shouting. Silas starts talking about the last Victor, a girl from District 3 called Kira, and a big screen behind him accompanies him with photos. There is a brief clip of the last person killed in the arena, and then I see the Capitol emblem. The reading of the card is about to start, and there is the anthem to prove it. Silas is thrilled for the big event that is coming up. President Coin is on the stage with a young boy dressed in a white suit carrying a wooden box.

President Coin reminds us all of the Dark Days and I tune out as she goes over the usual material that includes how the Games began and so on. She starts to tell us about the other Quarter Quells. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it." I imagine myself being picked to be a tribute and how betrayed I would feel if one of my own family members had voted for me. "On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

Forty seven tributes were sent that year. Facing that many tributes would be terrifying. The odds would certainly _not_ be in your favor. The president continues, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the tributes were selected from the existing pool of victors." Being a victor used to mean that you were safe from the Games, but now you don't even win that. Every year up to this one, everyone knew that nobody was safe.

"And now we honor our fourth Quarter Quell," The little boy steps forward and opens the wooden box for the president. All of us can see the rows of yellow cards. President Coin selects one that is marked with a black 100. She rips open the flap and snatches the card out of the envelope. She is almost giddy when she reads, "On the one hundredth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that only those who sided with the Capitol survived, half of the tributes will receive a weapon of their choice and survival equipment." My jaw drops as I think about how much I do not want to be chosen this year.

I hear my mom crying and turn around to comfort her, but my dad is already taking care of that. She gets upset every time she hears anything about the Games because she knew one of the tributes a few years ago. There was one boy who always bought from my family's bakery. His name was Orion Banter. He used to stay after we closed and he would help us clean up, which was no easy task. My mother was crushed when he was selected as a tribute. He was shot in the head with a bow and arrow and died instantly.

There is no way I can get the Games out of my mind, but I attempt to do so by going to work at my family's bakery. It's the same one that Peeta Mellark used to work at, but now he is in the victor's village with Katniss. He doesn't remember his family, and certainly not his distant relatives, so we are still as poor as ever. There aren't any customers to serve, so I decide to wash dishes. I go over to the sink only to find a massive pile of dirty dishes because I have been slacking off over the past few days. I'm surprised nobody ever told me the stack was getting this high, but I start washing them anyways.

It takes me about an hour to finish washing dishes, but the Games don't leave my mind. I still feel trapped by the Capitol, confined in a District where I have to work, but I still starve. I'm still required to put my name in the reaping ball every year, and this year the odds are certainly _not_ in my favor.


	2. Chapter 2

The Reaping Day. Everyone hates it. Everyone knows that we have to do it every year to please the Capitol. A girl and boy are chosen as tributes, which is basically a death sentence. Each year gets worse and worse, because my name is in the reaping bowl more each year. Thankfully, my little brother Gage, is only 10 and is not eligible this year.

When I wake up, I am instantly terrified of the day to come. I am forced to get up and get ready anyways. I brush my teeth and comb my brown hair until every strand sits neatly on my back. A knock on the door makes me jump, but it's just my mom. "Hey Nia. I'll do your hair once I'm ready, just get your dress on and go to the kitchen."

"Ok, I will." I obediently say. My mom has laid out my dress on my bed. It is a soft white with roses all over it, I hate it, but it's my grandmother's dress. My mom says that it will bring me good luck, but I wouldn't believe it for a second.

I go to my parents' room and sit on the edge of the bed as my mother French braids my long hair down my back. I get up and turn around to show my mom how I look, and when I ask for her opinion, she nearly weeps. "I just hope we have good fortune this year." She quietly says.

This year, my older brother, Caiden, is finally safe from the Games. However, this doesn't help the tension as we walk with the rest of the district to the square. My brothers and my parents go to their respected sections and I am left by myself. Since I am 17, I know by now what to do. Let them prick my finger, go to my section, and wait for the hour dreaded most by the majority of Panem. The girl next to me seems intent on not crying in front of me. I'm sure she means to seem uninterested, but the look in her eyes tells me she is just as terrified as the rest of us.

We all stand for about half an hour before I notice the crowd getting quiet. The four chairs on stage are occupied by the Mayor, Brynn Merlino, District 12's escort, and the two victors that are still alive. Peeta with his blond hair and charming smile, keeps waving at people he knows, and Katniss slouching in her chair obviously not paying attention. I know that it has to be hard for both of them to be here, but Katniss is drunk and Peeta is still trying to pretend to be an advocate of the Capitol. At two o'clock, I see the mayor get up and move to the podium. He reads the same story that he tells every year about the history of Panem.

The mayor introduces Brynn Merlino and quickly sits back in his seat so she can have the spotlight. Her creepy smile sends chills down my spine. How could she be smiling when she is about to send two people in the crowd to their deaths? Her nails make an audible noise as she rests her hand on the podium. She makes a high-pitched "ahem" noise and says the phrase made famous by Effie Trinket, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" She tries way too hard to imitate Effie, and it just gets funnier as she goes on to say the equally famous line, "Ladies first!"

It hits me as soon as her hand is hovering over the glass bowl. It could be me. I could be condemned to die right here and right now. Her hand plunges into the bowl and I pray that she is merely brushing off the slips with my name on them and not about to grab one of them. She flicks one of them out of them bowl and I can hardly breathe. I make a sad attempt to read her lips before she speaks, but she says the name so fast I wouldn't have caught it if it wasn't for one thing. She said my name.

I stare straight ahead and can't move or breathe. Someone wraps their arm around me and encourages me to move forward towards the stage. A headache and nausea soon accompany the tears that are silently streaming down my face. I cough and wipe my eyes on my sleeve in an effort to make myself look slightly tough or at least not completely broken.

The murmurs of the crowd are in no way a comparison to the screams of my mother. Once I get on stage I see that she has stopped struggling against the strong Peacekeepers. She is now on her knees screaming and pleading to anyone who will pretend to care. My brothers stand by my father, who is now trying to keep my mother calm, but he is failing terribly. Their faces make the lump in my throat grow bigger, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying again.

Soon, I am joined by a boy that is a little younger than me. He makes the mistake of sobbing and calling for someone when he gets onstage. He will be considered a weak and easy target by the tributes in the Career districts. I'm even considering killing him just to get him to shut up.

As the mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, my mind is thinking in a different way. I am thinking of my family and my future in the arena. I refuse to think like a Career, thinking of strategies to win, but I am thinking about my chances and how I will almost certainly die. Perhaps I will get lucky and die from an arrow or a blow to the head. But then again, I could always die a painful death from one of the Careers, or some muttation the Capitol sic on me. I force myself to think on the bright side. It's not that bright of a side, but it helps to think of the food that I will get to eat soon.


End file.
